


I Do It All For You

by rhapsodyvintage



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Johnlock mpreg, M/M, Morning Sickness, Mpreg, Pregnant John, Sherlock Cooking, Sick John, Speedy's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 00:19:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhapsodyvintage/pseuds/rhapsodyvintage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is having strange cravings and isn't feeling 100%. Sherlock purposely goes out of his way to make John feel better, but he tries to make it look like it was nothing. (Sorry if its a bit confusing :c ) More Fluff the better!  -Anonymous Prompt</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Do It All For You

_Good God, does the vomiting ever stop?_

John groaned to himself and re-positioned himself on the bathroom floor, rubbing his aching knees and setting his cheek against the cool porcelain of the bowl. He groaned again, pitifully. 

It seemed years later that his sickness finally subsided, and while John straightened up and took a look at himself in the mirror ( _I look like shit),_ there was a knock at the door. 

"John? I presume you can’t come with me today?"

Sherlock sounded legitimately concerned, although it was more likely for himself and his case workings than for John’s health, or the baby’s. 

"No…"  The answer was soft, ill. A pause, then the sweeping noise of fabric and the front door opening and closing.

In the kitchen John found what he swore wasn’t there this morning- a bottle of anti-nausea medication, a can of ginger ale, and some pamphlets on pregnancy and morning sickness. John looked around, his eyebrow raised.  _I guess Sherlock told Mrs. Hudson about it,_ he decided, picking up the medication box and opening it.

Feeling better? -SH

The text came an hour or so later, and brought John out of a sleepy daze. He had been laying in bed staring at the ceiling, much like after he woke up from a nightmare, but instead he was pondering everything that this little embryo nestled inside him would bring. 

A bit, yeah. Craving chips and ground beef though. -JW

No response.

Exactly twelve minutes later, the doorbell rang. John put on a jumper and answered the door, expecting Mrs. Hudson or even Mycroft to check up on him. Instead, a take-away box from Speedy’s next door sit on the floor, wrapped in a plastic bag. Warm, John realized, as he bent to pick it up. Again he peered downstairs, looking for Mrs. Hudson, or anyone, but the hall was empty. Just as he had said, the foam carton contained steaming hot chips and an order of fried ground beef, its fat dripping over the chips and softening them in a pile of unhealthy brilliance. John grinned. Maybe being pregnant wasn’t so bad after all.

That evening Sherlock returned in his usual state- preoccupied. He dropped a warm kiss on John’s lips, and then headed to the kitchen, pondering something deeply. John watched as he looked for a pan in the cupboards, pulled one out, then reached for some seemingly random ingredients, set it all on the stove and stared at it.

"What are you doing?"

"Making dinner."

John snorted and shook his head.

"Okay." 

He went back to his room where he had been in the middle of a blog entry, and beside his computer lay a DVD set of Doctor Who, a few series from the 70’s that he watched when he was a kid. Okay, he knew it was Sherlock this time- he was the only person he told, and that was ONE time a long time ago…

 The kitchen smelled wonderful- on the stove a pot of cacciatore stayed warm, and a cookie sheet filled with garlic bread lay beside it. John’s mouth fell open. Sherlock smirked but said nothing.

"I didn’t know you could cook! Why the bloody hell did you make me always do it then?" John huffed, a grin pulling at the corners of his lips. Sherlock stepped closer, stroked John’s jaw and kissed him. Slowly, quietly. The ice blue of his eyes melted as he studied the one he loved. 

"Eat up, love," he murmured, his lips still close. He let a hand settle on John’s abdomen and took his breath away with another kiss. Somewhere in the sticky warmth of affection John realized that everything that had happened today was Sherlock’s doing, and his nausea and aches melted away. He closed his eyes and let Sherlock embrace him completely, holding his body close. Sherlock rubbed his lower back gently.

"John Watson, you are carrying our child and you will never be alone or without love again." The next words stumbled past his lips, not quickly, as if his lips couldn’t keep up with his mind as usual, but for the first time it was nerves. Blood rushed to his cheeks.

"Marry me."

In all his years of Army training, nothing in John’s life could have prepared him for this moment. His head swam and electricity shot through his body, he even swore the baby nudged him a bit even though it was too early for that, and blood pounded so hard in his ears that he could hardly hear himself say it.

"Yes."


End file.
